Chapter 19
“Wait–why the hell is there blood on you? Wasn’t it just a broken leg?” Damon’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade.
His eyes flicked toward his assistant, who stepped forward without hesitation and yanked off my coat.
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Cold air hit my bare skin. My flat stomach was suddenly exposed.
Damon’s pupils shrank.
He charged toward me, panic flickering in his gaze. “Where’s the baby?!”
I stared up at him, dazed and hollow. “I left him… at the hospital.”
My mother–in–law had insisted the baby was a part of the Huo bloodline. His tiny body was sent back to their estate to receive some old–school ritual before being buried- without my consent.
I wasn’t even allowed to hold him one last time.
But of course, Damon misunderstood.
His lips curled into a cold sneer. “So that’s it. You knew whining wouldn’t get you anywhere so you ran off to the hospital and
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I stood there like a ghost–empty, weightless, already dead inside.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned me, but instead of concern, he smirked. “Save it. I’ve had enough of your twisted little games.”
The disgust on his face stung more than his words. “Cut the pitiful act, Vivienne. You’re not fooling anyone. Go crawl back into whatever hole you came from and stop polluting my girl’s sight.”
When I got back to my room, everything I owned had been tossed outside like trash.
“Mr. Damon says Miss Clarence likes this room now,” one of the maids said with a smug smile. “You’ve been asked to move.”
Of course, no one bothered to arrange another room for me.
The butler, eyes gleaming with malicious delight, stepped forward. “Mrs. Lancaster,
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the storage room should suit you just fine for tonight.”
“After all,” he added with mock innocence, “Mr. Damon mentioned you used to sleep in hospital hallways. You’re used to roughing it, right?”
That had been back when I spent every last dime trying to keep my mother alive–too broke to even afford a bed.
The staff all stood by, waiting for me to break down.
But I felt… nothing.
When your heart’s already dead, what else is there to lose?
The storage room was freezing. Wind leaked in from every corner, biting through the thin blanket they’d left me with. Fever set in sometime after midnight.
urning
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I curled in on myself, trembling and burning up, hoping unconsciousness would come quickly.
While I lay there fighting to breathe, Damon took Brooke out shopping for their wedding.
Every single item was flashier, pricier, more extravagant than anything he’d bought for
- me.
They even commissioned a custom diamond tiara from a world–famous designer.
The one he gave me had been made by some random local jeweler.
And back then, I actually believed it was because I didn’t deserve anything more- because I wasn’t his “true love.”
But the truth? The truth was much crueler.
Looking back, I wanted to laugh. Or cry.
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I’d mistaken basic civility for affection. And I blamed everything that happened after on Laura’s manipulation.
How naïve. How stupidly hopeful I had been.
When Damon finally returned–probably in a good mood–he had someone move me into a guest room.
He even tossed a thick wad of cash at me. “Buy whatever you need,” he said like he was doing me a favor.
I was still burning with fever when one of the estate staff showed up and informed me I had to go back to the main residence.
Somewhere in my fever haze, I remembered: today was the memorial for my baby.
I forced myself to stand for three hours, trembling and half–conscious, while strangers burned incense and muttered prayers.
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After the ceremony, I remembered the cash still stuffed in my pocket.
And I remembered Damon’s cold command –“Handle it yourself.”
Gritting my teeth, I dragged myself to the mall. I bought clothes. Jewelry. Makeup. All the things I hadn’t allowed myself to want in years.
I came back to the villa, arms full of shopping bags… and saw him.
Damon was kneeling beside Brooke, helping her deliver puppies.
Puppies.
She stroked her precious little designer dog, eyes gleaming with something wicked. “I wonder which poor souls are in such a rush to be reincarnated today,” she murmured, voice thick with meaning.
“Lucky things” she cooed to the whimpering
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“Lucky things,” she cooed to the whimpering pups. “Being born into my world.”
Something inside me snapped.
Before I could stop myself, I lunged–and slapped her across the face with all the rage I’d been choking on for months.
The next second, Damon kicked me so hard I crashed into the cabinet behind me.
Luxury bags and clothes exploded around me like confetti–scattered remnants of my pitiful attempt at self–worth.
Damon’s voice boomed through the room. “What the hell is wrong with you now?!”
His eyes locked on the mess. “What is all this crap?!”
He pointed accusingly at the shopping bags like they were evidence in a trial. “I told you to prepare necessities for the baby’s return. And you blow money on this?”
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Anu you DIOW TIunty unT LITIS:
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“Vivienne, you’re shallow. You’re vain. You’re disgusting.”
His voice dropped, colder than death. “With a character like yours, you think you’re fit to be a mother?”
Then he said the one thing that shattered whatever was left of me:
“When the child comes back, don’t even dream of touching him.”
The child…
My baby…
My baby was already gone.
I let out a laugh–low, broken, bitter–and reached for the fruit knife on the counter.
With one last breath, I drove it toward my heart.
